


When the joys of living just leave you cold

by milliondollarbum



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 17 y/o Louis, 32y/o Harry, Age Difference, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Open Ending, Underage - Freeform, girl!Harry, girl!Louis, girl!direction, seeing how louis' 17, sugerbaby Louis, there's underage drinking drugs alchol sex and that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-21 07:05:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4819754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milliondollarbum/pseuds/milliondollarbum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis stared up into the room as she laid down in the cold bed, cum dripping out of her cunt. She can’t remember how she got here.</p><p>Or, 32!Girl Harry and 17!Girl Louis tries to fix everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Frozen from the failing mess you made your own

**Author's Note:**

> Okay!! the flashback, “you’re thirteen..” etc. is underage. Before you say that any of this is unrealistic - I promise you, it is not. Some people get their period earlier, hence fucking earlier. Where I’m from, it’s legal to have sex at 15. So, obviously, everyone loses it at 14. I know of people who lost it at 11, hell, 13 was considered normal from the place I grew up. 
> 
> I just felt like, no one have written this before. But I think that many can relate to this; it may not be the best memories though.  
> (about the wine tastes: this is my personal ranking. I’m more of a liquor and ale person, thought, so please tell me what you think of wines) x
> 
> Title and chapter titel taken from IAMX "This will make you love again".

Louis stared up into the room as she laid down in the cold bed, cum dripping out of her cunt. She can’t remember how she got here.  
  
You’re thirteen the first time you use eyeliner, and it really just look like some shitty smokey eyes. Still haven’t got control over the mascara, lumps everywhere and the eyelashes are divided into five or so groups.   
  
The boys starts to notice the difference - the makeup, the bra, the change in style. The upperclassmen starts to notice you. You first take a sip from some shitty polish vodka you bought from some shade fucker, by a numer you don’t remember getting.  
  
The trashy party invites starts, those hushed house parties where the parents are still asleep.  
  
You are still thirteen the first time you lose your virginity to your seventeen-something neighbourhood. He’s cool, never wanted a relationship with you, but he helps fix the alcohol.  
  
Your friends are happy, crazy, for you asking how it felt. You’re quite shy to share, so your friend, who was only 11 when she lost her virginity, kept answering for you.  
  
You’re fourteen and you’re on the top of the goddamn world. Nothing can stop you, that pink dye you just bought makes you look edgy and rad. Like someone unique and special.  
  
The drugs are coming into the picture, that neighbourhood dude you still can’t remember the name of gave you your first joint. Confused, you have smoked cigarettes for a while, you light it up like normal. He laughs, shows you to let it burn, fimp, then light it again for best effect.  
  
You’re still fourteen when you’re at the work of your somewhat out of town local drug dealer and he rolls you a joint with a red pill in (you still don’t know what it was).   
  
You’re fifteen, the bong is out front and you have threesome with two other girls infront of   
the other boys (we’re not gay, but we have to try everything, right? and laughs).  
  
Fifteen is the age of magic, a big year. The first boyfriend (he was perfect, older, so handsome. “I don’t want to, please” ten minutes later, your tear smitten cheeks are pressed down in the mattress. He says “I win.” with a smirk, _it was all just a game_ ).  
  
You are seventeen, and can’t stand it. How does it feel like to be a girl? Oppression, raping, drugging and fucking.  
  
Louis isn’t so sure if she want to be that. But it’s too late now, isn’t it? She’s fucking no one, from a poor as family, who gets fucked for money.  
  
Ah, yes. You love being a girl, don’t you? (What’s the definition of being a girl?)  
  
Louis threw up in the toilet, pretty sure she is still in her _daddys_ apartment, but fuck if she knew. Everything is spinning and she could for all she know be home or dead.  
  
The cum is still dripping out of her.  
  


* * *

  
Things that made Louis, isn't what she's made of.  
  
She's made of midnight train screeching through the wind with various drugs in her body and some alcohol bottle with too high percent in her hand.  
  
She's the sleepless night with drunk dials ringing in; to let her know she's on everyone's mind. The first person to call for a bootycall in exchange for the latest fashion, a concert ticket or her favorite perfume.  
  
She’s some used condom, a day after pill. She’s forgettable yet still on everyone's mind.  
  
Louis is that kind of girl you stop for when she walks by, she's the kind of girl that cuts you up with all her broken pieces.  
  
But in everyone's eyes, she perfection, a sweet cute girl too dumb to understand what she's actually does. Too blind by the jewellery to see that's she a whore.  
  
They aren’t wrong, neither are they right. Louis isn’t anything really (She wonders when she lost her personality).

 

* * *

  
It wasn’t a nice blowjob, it was that kind where he smeared his precum all over his face; taunting her and smirking that ugly smile, “You love my cum don’t you, you little bitch.”  
  
Of course she does, it’s the only thing she’s good at nowadays. So Louis kisses his head stationat at her lips, dragging her tongue at his slit.  
  
“I love it,” She murmurs as he fills her up later, and she knows that the gucci bag she’ve whined about will be delivered tomorrow.   
  
She's isn't the typical sugarbaby - she's smart, political activ and all that yadda. But for money she'll play along, it's all acting.  
  
 _It's all acting,_ she tells herself as she wears the pearl necklace and cries into the mattress.  
  


* * *

  
  
Louis walks down the hallway, past the football team who are bullying some freshmen girl down the path of anorexia; past the dirty trashcan and gossiping cheerleaders.  
  
She have already missed her first two classes, but she makes up with it by looking pristine, looking absolutely perfect. Everyone glances at her but she don’t pay no mind, she’s only interested if they have money.  
  
And well, no one in this hellhole have that.   
  
She’s so goddamn bored. She considered if she should just walk out and skip the whole day, maybe go to the park.  
  
“Louis!” Niall shouted as he threw himself all over her.   
  
“Good morning babe.” She said as she hugs her childhood friend.  
  
“Morning to you too! Fuck, you’re late but I can understand you. I’m a fucking zombie before noon,” He said with his thick irish accent.  
  
She snorts, “Can’t believe I’m even awake right now.” She offers Niall her Starbuck's venti black coffee with double shot in.  
  
He takes it gratefully, “You’re god sent.” He moans in the cup, “Were you up all night, or? Usually you take tea instead of _disgusting black coffee shit_ , quoting from you.”  
  
Louis shrugs, “I arrived home around four, five a.m., and I’m still unsure if I’m still drunk or hungover.”   
  
“Ah shit, fucking feel you. Four hours of sleep after drinking is shit, amazing you even showed up today.” Niall laughs and hits her shoulder.  
  
“I know, I’m amazing. Should get a fucking prize or something.” She laughs with him.  
  
“Um, ew? You, a prize? Don’t you, like, think a little bit too highly of yourself?” Hannah cuts in.  
  
Louis rolls her eyes, “And you should get a prize for being a grade A bitch, maybe even head bitch.” She smiles brightly at the cheerleader.  
  
"You wouldn't amount for anything, whore, much less a prize." Hannah spit back.  
  
"Takes one to know one." She blew a kiss to her and walked away. It was a lame comeback but she wasn't in the mode for another bitch match.  
  
Niall walked beside her, "Don't mind the cheerleader, they're just bitches looking for fights and gossip."  
  
Louis laughed, "I know. I was the same, remember when I was fourteen?"   
  
The blond rolled his eyes, "You were _the_ head bitch, I have no idea how we kept being friends."  
  
Louis kissed him on his cheek, even with her heels she had to stand on her toes, "You're the best friend one could ever ask for."  
  
Louis continued to make way to her shared class with Niall, her heels making clicking noise as she went, "I was the fucking queen. I made girls cry everyday and bullied three people into changing schools." Louis rolled her eyes like it was no big deal.  
  
Niall smiled down at her, "You were worse than Regina George, you were a right down demon ruling."   
  
"And it was just so boring." Louis whined. She could have taken over this school too if she had wanted - but she didn't feel up for it. Everything was just petty fights, made to waste her time. She had her diamonds now instead.  
  
Niall chuckled by her side.  
  


* * *

  
  
She’s seventeen the first time she meets Harry Styles. Louis wears her favorite YSL foundation concealing the dark bruises, and her pretty 132 rogue red lancôme lipstick to hide her split lip. She’d always loved the dark red color, no one noticed when her lip bleeds and splits.  
  
The woman in front of her was gorgeous, long dark luscious curls waving down her back, and tall black stilettos.  
  
“Oops!,” Louis remember saying the first word between them, almost spilling her drink at her.  
  
She had chuckled, a large hand covering her mouth. “Hi.” She said with her hand out.  
  
Louis, being a complete airhead (and too high on eva to actually get the gesture), completely missed her chance at shaking her hand. Instead, she gasped as she saw her dress, “Oh my God, is that the latest Vivienne Westwood dress? Can I touch it? God, it’s so beautiful up close,” Sue her, she loved that designer, punk rock never dies with her in the fashion industry.  
  
Harry blinked once, twice, before laughing. “You tryna feel me up?” She winked at Louis blush.  
  
“N-no, I, God.” She looked up at the tall woman, “Are you a model?” Her jawline was really pretty and her body so slender. And. Fuck. She had ignored her question again.  
  
Louis realised what she’d just done and blushed again, “No, God I’m so sorry! I always think so much and I guess my mouth doesn't really keep up…” She looked down at the floor, willing her blush to go away. Whatever John had given her was shit, she's never taking anything from him again; she's acting like some fucking schoolgirl. “Um, It’s just, your dress is so pretty. I love the designer, she have always been a favorite of mine with her unique designe. I mean, Dior and Versace makes beautiful dresses too! It’s just, they always repeat the same fashion in the end you know and I-” God,  Louis, stop rambling.  
  
“I’m sorry. I, I shouldn’t have said anything.” She stuttered as she started to make her way back to the bar.  
  
Cold fingers clasped her wrist, “No, It’s cute. I’m Harry Styles.”   
  
“My mother also gave me a male name!” She giggled slightly, “‘m Louis, Louis Tomlinson.”  
  


* * *

  
The next day she found a package outside her house addressed to herself. She opened warily, God know’s what kind of weird shit her sugardaddies sent her, to see a beautiful black Vivienne Westwood dress inside.  
  
A note feel down, and she picked it up. _‘I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear this -H.S.’_ it was written in an elegant cursive. Louis was slightly jealous - her own writing looked like a left handed chicken writing.  
  
  


* * *

  
Louis was dressed in the Westwood, and she looked like a god damn national treasure. The dress itself was pretty enough that she didn't bother with jewellery -just some simple white gold design here and there and river diamonds earring. She finished the look up with her red lips and smokey eyes.  
  
Simple, clean and beautiful. Nothing like herself.  
  
And, God, when she saw Harry at the door she felt cheap, like dirt. Like some fucking white trash.  
  
Harry stood tall, axel back and power oozed from her. She was gorgeous. Louis wanted her more than she wanted ps2 when it came out.  
  
“Are you ready?” She asked in a slow dosy tone.  
  
Louis beamed at her, “Of course! This dress is lovely, I can’t believe I’m wearing a Westwood.”  
  
Harry chuckled, “Of course you can’t,” she mimicked, “Seeing how you wore a Gucci dress last time I saw you. A downgrade, isn’t it?” She asked her as she led her to her car. A simple white range rover with black tinted windows -- Louis is used to the lamborghini's but this one fitted Harry more than all of these other expensive cars could.  
  
“Oh shush you! That dress was awful and you know it,” she looked down, faking a blush. She knew how to play them all: girls were no different than boys in the end.  
  
Harry laughed as she opened the door, “It did look gorgeous on you, otherwise I wouldn’t have invited you out.”  
  
Louis playfully looked shocked, placing a hand over her breast (simplest trick, draw attention to her enormous breast), “My, are you just taking me out for my looks?”  
  
“No baby, you was simply too cute for me to resist.” Harry winked and laid a hand on her tight, “And your beauty is just a plus.”  
  
Louis knew this route, having played down it way too many time for only a seventeen year old. After the dinner she would get fucked, left with a new number and tomorrow the latest brand will arrive at her door.  
  
She could play this game blindfolded, hell, she could play it while sleeping. And she was tired of it. But - this wasn’t the right moment to overlook her past conquerors, so she simply placed her hands over Harry’s.   
  
“Thank you, but you are the beauty here,” Louis said and looked away, examining the way the dark night illuminated by the street lights. It was ugly, so god damn fucking ugly; so bright and no stars could be seen.  
  
As they stepped outside the car they was seated by the window to overlook the city. This ugly forsaken city.  
  
“Oh, I’ve never been here! Gosh, I can barely read any of these titles.” She placed the menu in front of Harry, acting as if she was nervous. Not a single word of her sentence bore any truth -- she’d been here plenty of time, and she could read french fluently.   
  
Harry chuckled in front of her, “It’s okay, baby. I recommend the lamb steak as head course, and pilgrim scallops to start with.”   
  
Louis lowered the menu, looking shyly at Harry, “And dessert?”  
  
Harry grinned filthy, “We’ll take care of that when it shows up.”  
  
The waiter came and Harry ordered for them both.  
  
“I’m impressed, so far.” Louis said, smiling with mirth.  
  
“How so?” Harry asked, returning the smile.  
  
“Firstly, you order me _both_ seafood and meat. Most of my dates always brings me sallad. Which is horrible, I must say.” She beams at her.  
  
Harry rolled her eyes, “All men, I presume? They know nothing of woman, we need to enjoy food just as much as they do. Also, just becamse you’re in great form, does it means you’re on a diet.”   
  
Louis smiled, “Exactly! Gosh, I hate those salads.” She laughed sheepishly. She needed to act cute, like a lady, someone desirable. And no one wants someone that swears more than a sailor, so for all this act she does, Louis will put up with saying ladylike things, instead of her favourite swear words. She can’t wait to go home to Niall and bitch about it.  
  
“And secondly, you ordered German Rieslingwith! It’s one of my favourit whites - so under appreciated.” Louis said as the wine came with the first coarse.  
  
Harry thanked the waiter before continuing their conversation, “Indeed, many would simply take Aromatic Pinot Gris from Alsace to start with because they recognize they name.”  
  
“But, pinot noir fits best with when mushrooms are in the play!” Louis finished, excited.  
  
Harry looked at her as she ate her clamps, “It’s nice to talk to someone with decent taste, nowadays most people would have started a conversation completely focusing on herself.” She mused.  
  
“You want to try a bite?” Louis giggled, completely ignoring the second part of her statement, “These scallops are delicious, and the melted butters to it is amazing.” This was confusing - Louis have gotten everyone else by playing the airhead, yet Harry Styles wanted one that could actually _talk._  
  
They tasted each other’s food, completing it with the wine as it went down. “This place is lovely, how did you find it?" Louis asked, holding a hand over her mouth as she swallowed.  
  
"I own it." Harry said simply as she took another drink.  
  
"Wait, you own this?" Louis asked with big eyes.  
  
"I do." Harry smirked at the younger girl.  
  
Louis comment got cut off by the waiter bringing their main course and changing their wine glasses.  
  
“Does that mean I can’t bitch about the food?” Louis asked, batting her eyelashes. She liked Harry, liked the game she was playing, that kind that brought out her playful side.  
  
Harry let out an embarrassing squeak, that kind of laughing that made you cover yourself. “Darling, you can tell me exactly what you think of the food.” Her eyes shined with laughter.  
  
Louis liked those eyes. “Then I don’t like this lamb.” She smiled brightly up at her.  
  
“You haven’t even touched it yet, babe.” Harry said as she took a taste of her lamb, “It’s understated, but quite good with the wine.”  
  
Louis squealed, “How dare you taste what’s mine before me!”   
  
“Here, take mine. Equal enough for your highness?” She said with laughter shining through.  
  
“Of course. Only the best for my royal bum.” Louis proceeded to put her nose in the air while she tasted the entrecôte.   
  
“It’s delicious, actually. I can’t find anything bad with it.” Louis looked down, she wanted to bitch, to show her multi culinary tastes.   
  
“It’s okay babe, I only hire the best chefs.” Harry said as if she had read her mind. It was slightly discoring.?   
  
She changed the subject, clapping her hands together, “So, you know I’m   
not old enough to drink this right?” She whispered.  
  
Harry’s eyebrow shot up, “You aren’t legal?”  
  
“I’m seventeen,” She laughed as she took a bite of the lamb, “And you’re right, it is slightly under salted.”  
  
“Hm, I would have guessed you were around twenty.” Harry said, looking around the room.  
  
Louis noticed the change in mode, “Does my age bother you?” She looked down, then up again through her wet eyelashes at Harry, “I can leave if you want to.” She wobbled her lip, making her eyes shine with unshredded tears. She was a goddamn master at this game.  
  
“No, sweetheart. I just don’t think you would want an old woman like me.” Harry chuckled.  
  
She cooked her head to the side, like in a clueless manner, “Why not? Age isn’t the important, chemistry is.” And Louis was the fucking master at faking chemistry.  
  
Harry took her hand in hers, “Baby, I’m thirtytwo, fifteen years older than you.”   
  
Louis gripped her hand tighter, “And? In fifty years those number will mean nothing,” She wondered if she was moving too fast -- some men liked to be reassured their age meant nothing; some liked that she was younger. She looked warily at the older woman, smiling softly at her.  
  
Harry sighted, “You are too cute for your own best,” She muttered.   
  


* * *

  
  
They separated at Louis apartment, Harry only kissing her forehead with promises of a next time.  
  
It was confusing, to not get fucked later; to not get used like a dirty whore.  
  
  
 **Text message from: Daddy, ZAYN**  
  
 _'Come over. wife's away"_  
  
 _Read: 02:28_  
  
 _'Baby, come and ill buy you the new collection from ysl'_  
  
 _Read: 02:31_  
  
Louis looked at her phone, she was seated on the floor in her bedroom. He was desperate, only three minutes between the message, yet -- she didn't feel up for it. She didn't want to.  
  
She had Harry now.  
  
 **New message from: Daddy, ZAYN**  
  
 _'Baby'_  
  
 _Read: 02:43_  
  
Louis looked around her push apartment, she didn't need object, she needed money for her rent.  
  
 **Text message to: Daddy, ZAYN**  
  
 _'daddyyy I'm sorry I haven't answered :(( was thinking about you big cock inside of me, can I please come over now? Daddy pleaaasee'_  
  
She wrote, starting to reapply her makeup, some simple contouring and juicy pink lipgloss.  
  
 _'baby, come over now."_  
  
Louis put on her pink lace, she hoped that he at least had the dignity to take of his ring while he fucked her later.  
  


* * *

  
  
The first time she touched a penis she was twelve. It was a house party at someone her friend knew, and god she was drunk and giggly.  
  
They had went with Sasha and Chris on a walk, until she sat down shouting how she refused to move her legs.  
  
Derek had sat down beside her, and they were talking about everything and nothing and somehow it ended with -  
  
"You want to touch it?" He said as he took out his dick. She touched it, scrunching her face, "It looks weird," she laughed.  
  
Derek laughed with her, taking her hands and showing her how to give a proper handjob.  
  
One hour later she was in the bed John, "So I just lick it?" She asked.  
  
She gave his cock kittenlick before she started to suck on his head.  
  
He groaned, pulling her away, "Too much, try to take it in your mouth."  
  
She swallowed half of him before choking and pulling of, John dragging her down again.  
  
"Be a good girl and try to take me whole?" He moaned as she gagged.  
  
He fucked her mouth, ignoring Louis pleas to stop; coming in her mouth.  
  
"So good, baby you're the best."  
  
Louis licked into his mouth, she's still unsure if he ever knew her name.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Do you have a reason to live?” Louis asked Niall one day. The blond was one of childhood friend, one who was always in on her mischief, the one to join her on their trip to the principal.  
  
“Yes, don’t you?” He answered, crooking an eyebrow as he passes the joint to Louis.  
  
“I have, but the reason not to outweighs them.” She took the joint and felt herself relax.   
  
Niall cuddled her, "Then don't go up."  
  


* * *

  
  
Harry took her out on another date, it was midnight and the stars were falling down all around them.   
  
“I always loved to stargaze when I was younger,” Louis admitted, “I didn’t grown up here in London, I come from Doncaster, and every cloudless night you could see the stars. It was beautiful, here in London you can’t really see the stars.”  
  
“I’ve never really seen the stars like that, on the countryside. I’m always in big cities that ruins the nights, but I hoped that we could spot some tonight.” Harry grinned at her, showing her dimples.  
  
She laughed, “Babe, it’s cloudy. We aren’t going to see any stars or falling ones, just admit defeat.”   
  
The older woman pouted, “I just wanted you to see something beautiful.”   
  
Louis grinned, straddling her, “Oh, I’m not beautiful enough for you?”  
  
“You are more beautiful than any stars.” She whispered, placing her hands on her hips, “So gorgeous, you should be a zodiac."  
  
Louis smiled and bit her lip, looking shyly at the ground as she rolled her eyes. She've heard that line too many times.  
  
"And you're very pretty." Louis said back, looking up to the older girl through her eyelashes.   
  
Harry gripped her waist, pulling her closer to her body, "You are the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen." And she kissed her tenderly.  
  


* * *

  
  
It’s fucking cold outside. Not some poetic bullshit, _how the snow shimmered in the light, soft smell of a new beginning; a sound of leaves rustling through the blaze,_ no, it was fucking dirty yellow snow, different shitty music playing in the background from the parties all around him. Smells like weed, dirt and piss too.  
  
She hated Niall’s party - she was diamonds and high class (she knew she belonged here with the junkies and trash).  
  
Louis lighted the cigarette with his zippo-lighter she got from her mates months back, they were celebrating some shit neither really remembered. It was a beauty, a picture of Marilyn Monroe with 666 engraved in her forehead. It’s ugly as fuck.  
  
The smoke burned as it went down her throat, more than usual. Shouldn’t had puked and had a smoke on so short notice, she duly remarks for her future self that she know she’s going to ignore.  
  
She threw away the fag, lighting up another, a marlboro red this time, it’s such a beautiful night. She can make it beautiful if she thinks hard enough; the wet-snow-mud on the ground can be caramel colored chai-latte spilled by God, the different genre of music drifting from diverse apartment can be the soundtrack to her bipolar messy life.  
  
See, she’s fucking poetic, should have become some damn writer. Then she could blame her drunkenness on creativity juice, like Aiden.  
  
“Hey,” someone sits down next to her. Someone very handsome, red hair -definitely dye- shaved on the sides, and _ohmy_ , is that grey eyes. She’s gonna fuck her, she have decided.  
  
“Which party are you coming from, darling?” Louis ask her, the wonders of smoking outside the port. Beauty can be her neighbor for all she knows.  
  
“Donna’s, you?” The other woman lights a cigarette, a lucky strike fresh click and roll.  
  
Louis makes a disgusted face at that, completely ignoring what she said, “Menthol cigarette in the middle this season? Why are you doing that to yourself,”  
  
Beauty laughs, “Feels fresher, better for giving blows with mint breath, ain’t it?” she winks.  
  
“No woman is ever worth throwing away my darling red.” Louis grins.  
  
“Oh, oh.” The other girl stares at her. Louis eyes widens, “You’re one of them?” Beauty -dick- spats at her. “Fucking disgusting,” She stands up to leave.  
  
“Ah, hey wait!” Louis stands up with her reaching towards her, her sexuality have nothing to do with smoking with me for _fuck sake_ ,  
  
The other woman pushes her down harshly, “Don’t fucking touch me.” She threw her cigarette where Louis lays on the ground, “You disgusting lot.”   
  
She walks away, and Louis lets her. Doesn’t even try to get up, staring up at the stars. Stars and moon and pretty pretty things, things not like her. She should write a poem about it, maybe.  
  
She takes another drag from the cancer stick.  
  
“Why am I even surprised,” she mumbles.  
  


* * *

  
  
“This taste like _disappointing my mother_ , you should rethink your title, Nathan!” Louis said as she threw back the cocktail on the bar table.   
  
The bartender, Nathan, shaked his head, “Louis, darling, you order a ‘strong fucking cocktail with shit ton of scotch in’, of course it taste like shit.”   
  
“You know what also taste of disappointment? Drinking the whole 3 liter box wine by yourself,” Niall said as he took a seat beside Louis at the bar. “Four tequila shots mate, tonight’s gon’ get fucked up!” He showed four fingers in Nathan's direction for extra effect.  
  
“When isn’t it with you in here?” Nathan said fondly at his favorite customers.   
  
“You know what else is trash? This whole bar.” Harry said from behind her.  
  
“Harreh!” Louis shouted happily as she threw herself all over her, “What are you doing here?” She asked.  
  
“You're already drunk?" Harry chuckled, "I was in the neighbourhood, and was in the mode for a beer."  
  
“Whaaa,” Louis dragged the word out, trying to focus on Harrys face, “You shouldn’t be here. You don’t fit in.” She scrunched up her nose.   
  
“Well, you’re here, and that’s enough reason for me to come here.” Harry smiled as she took a sip of her ale.  
  
“Well, who have we got here?” Niall asked as he shoved the shots to both girls, “And what are your intentions with my cute little daughter?”  
  
“3, 2, 1, cheers!” Louis shouted as she drowned two tequila shots with Niall, Harry haven’t even touched hers yet.   
  
"All pure intention,sir." Harry humored the younger boy.  
  
"Fuck whatever Niall says, he's a wanker." Louis shouted happily as threw down the last shot. She didn't give a single fuck about being ladylike, about playing the game. She just wanted to get shitwasted and forget everything.  
  
Harry chuckled around her dark beer.  
  
  
  
"Get down," harry growled in her ear.  
  
She wasn't sure how she got home, she faintly remembered Niall and tequila shots.  
  
"Dope and diamonds, I want money, power, glory," Louis sang instead, having that damn song on her head since the bar. She’d been listening to Ultraviolence all morning, and she’s pretty sure she have mixed two or more songs together in her head. The wonderful bar with Niall and gossiping about everything and nothing, singing karaoke with Harry.  
  
Harry slapped her cheek hard, "What did I ask you?"  
  
Louis had no idea, but fuck she was horny. She rutted up against Harry, hoping to relive it.  
  
Harry shook her head, "Not the right answer, darling." She took of the soft silk scarf and tied Louis hands together at the headboard.  
  
“Babe,” Lois whined.  
  
Harry chuckled as she placed herself  between her legs, “You look so good.” She said as she placed bitmarks at her tights, “I just want to eat you,”  
  
“Then why don’t you?” Louis asked breathless as she felt Harry leave another hickey on her inner thighs.  
  
Harry responded by going up to her nipples, biting, tounging them until Louis was a pantless mess under her.  
  
“Please,” Louis begged and pushed her breast up. She’s always had sensitive nipples -- but the way Harry was sucking and tugging on them made her a mess.  
  
“Baby,” Louis continued as Harry sucked relentless on her left breast, teasing the other with harsh flicking.  
  
 _“Mommy”_ , Louis breathed as she arched her back. That certainly got a reaction from Harry as she continued to suck on her nip with new revigior.  
  
Harry let her mouth travel doward, kissing her stomach piercing.   
  
“Say it again.” Harry panted as she took her anchor piercing in her mouth, “Shout it again,” she played with her nipples with both hands.  
  
Louis was struggling against her handcuffs, “Stop,” She breathed harshly. Her nipples have always been a weak point to her - and since she pierced her right nipple it have only been even more sensitive.  
  
“Stop!” She groaned, “Please, it’s too much!”   
  
Harry continued to tug at her nips and play with her stomach, “Say it again and I’ll stop.” She breathed over her white lace hipster panties.  
  
Louis couldn’t control it, her nips were so oh, _oh_ , sensitive, “Mommy!” She shouted, “Mommy, mommy,” She continued like a chanting.  
  
Harry continued down on her, leaving soft purple marks in her way.   
  
She licked her cunt with experience, “Look, already so wet for me,” She teased her lips and rubbed a finger on her cunt, licking down her lips-  
  
She chuckled, "Didn't even need to wet them with saliva."  
  
Those goddamn fucking fingers were still pressing her nipples, and Louis couldn’t handle it. She shouted as she came, hoping Harry would lick it up.  
  
“My, I haven’t even touched you and you're already coming.”  
  
Louis struggled against the handcuffs, “Stop touching my nipples and cunt then, please!" She cried in an after orgasmic haze. Her tights were still shaking but she didn’t mind. She just wanted Harry’s fingers off her puffy nipples.  
  
“Ah!” She shouted and tried to wriggle away, “S-stop!” She fell down into the mattress, trying to get away from Harry’s hands.  
  
“Darling, if I want to play with your nipples, I will. Okay?” She asks so gently as she went down to suck on her left nipple.  
  
Louis bucked up with her hips, wanting friction, wanting anything inside of her. Tears were forming in her eyes and her arms struggling relentless against the bidding.  
  
“Mommy! Mommy! Please!” She continued to shout over and over again.  
  
Harry stopped to torture on the stiff nipples, trailing down her body before resting at her hips, "Gon' eat you out so good, you smell so amazing."   
  
She duck down between her tights after leaving several marks on both, and started to make kitten strokes.  
  
She switched between sucking on her clit and pushing it back and forth with her index finger as she throughly fucked her with her other hand.  
  
Harry felt Louis clenching and breathing fast in tact as she came once again.  
  
"So pretty, you're such a slut for me." harry murmured against her nipple as she took her finger out of her hole.  
  
"Came two time tonight, but that's nothing of what I have in plans for you."  
  


* * *

 

She’s fourteen again, waking up to an empty bed and the latest fashion arriving at her door. She laughed into her pillow, why the fuck did she think Harry Style’s would have been different from everyone else.

No one is different, everyone's leaves in the end.

 


	2. And if you want an ending to your screenplay life

Good girls have perfect health.   
  
Have pristine, shining looks, an angelic smile and an everlasting smile, filled with love and patience.   
  
They have everything, and never complains as they open their legs.   
  
Good girls drinks themselves numb to forget the pain of everyday.   
  
  
It’s only temporary, the feeling. But for a small second Louis felt loss. Or maybe it was a fabrication of her drug filled mind, telling -shouting- at her to actually feel something.   
  
She doesn’t want to feel anything. Why would one want to feel the pain that surrounded them, it’s stupid, idiotic. Everything is shit, accept it, move on.   
  
Close of, nothing is real.   
  
  
The thing is --the thing is, Louis haven’t got any sob story to cover up her self hatred and poor choices.   
  
Her family died, she grieved, she got thrown into the world too early with no connections and no way to understand economy.   
  
Her neighbours, the Horans, took care of her. Well -- Niall scar can preach that the care wasn’t the best.   
  
“Sometimes, when I lie awake at night and can’t think, I wonder how our lives could have been different.” Niall said to her as they were about to fall asleep in their pillowfort on Louis balcony.   
  
The hookah died down, so they are just passing a joint lazily between each other as they wait for sleep to over take them. “I would love to have been born in a fantasy world,” Louis murmurs back.   
  
Niall holds a hand out towards the stars, his scarred and burned arm blending in with the night. “Even if we’re living downtown, the city still have too much goddamn lights everywhere. I want to see the stars again. I remember visiting my grandma in Ireland who lives on the countryside. The stars was endless.”   
  
Louis tangles their free hands together, blowing out the smoke through her nostrils and takes a large gulp of wine. “We should visit the stars. Maybe we have, in an alternative version of ourselves.”   
  
The boy grinned at her, showing his mismatched set of teeth and split lip, “Maybe we were like Star Wars. An galactic empire, maybe we were kings and queens.”   
  
“We were the kings and the queens of promise, we were the victims of ourselves,” Louis sang out and started to hum the melody.   
  
She laughed, “I only remembers we were the kings and queens.” And she started to sing the verse over and over again, until the words blended together and started to sound fake.   
  
Niall was giggling at her side, humming and shouting ‘kings and queens’ with her.   
  
Their voices died down as they stared out into the nothingness, the sound of train and cars filling the air. Some neighbor have a party from the sound of the loud dance music and weird dubstep remixes, another neighbor have taken up the piano at two in the night and are playing an impressive mozart piece.   
  
Through all this noises everything is calm, the air around them is frozen just like time.   
  
“We would have been jedi knights. Before the liberty died with thunderous applause. We would save galaxies, would save millions of people. We would have stopped wars, lived in peace with chewbacca,” Niall said as he poured up another glass of wine and lighted up a cigarillo.    
  
“Maybe we would have been that, but if I knows us just as much as I does, I’m positive our lightsabers would have an eerie red glow.” Louis kissed his cheek and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders again when it started to fall down.   
  
“I’m not sure what the best situation of those two would have been the best; me as the master or apprentice.” Niall kissed her and brought his hand up to her throat.   
  
Louis let his hand squeeze around her neck, “We would fit as sith lords. We already see the world as black and white, grey got no power over us.”    
  
Niall let his hand fall down and took a blow from his fag, “What could we have been in this world thought?”    
  
“Maybe some rich socialites, we’d do everything we do nowadays, except it would be socially acceptable.” Louis laughed and stood up from their dent of pillows and blankets. She took a hold of her glas of white wine and threw it down the balcony, hearing it break in thousand pieces as it landed on the cold pavement.   
  
She ignored Niall's shout of ‘Hey I could have drank that!’ and took the bottle of 7 deadly zins, drinking the cheap red wine she had bought simply for its name.    
  
She drank gulp after gulp, draining the bitter alcoholic bottle then throwing it on the ground next to her broken glass.   
  
“When, if, we were rich, this. This would be our everyday and everyone; every single wanker would love us. We would be the elite, the best at throwing away our daddy’s money!” She threw her head back and laughed.   
  
Niall joined next to her as he too drank too much too quickly while smoking illegal cigarettes. Their laughter of joys and wishfulness filled the air, “We would have thrown the best party. We would always be the center of attention.”   
  
“Obviously! We would be on top of the world.” Louis said.   
  
“Maybe we can one day live like it.” Niall said, closing his eyes and trying to imagine a life where they were rich.    
  
Louis kissed him, it wasn’t slow like the night air and moon shining down on them as they shared an emotional embrace, as they authors wrote about no -- it was a forceful desperate kiss with more teeth than tongue.   
  
Blood dripped down Nialls lips as Louis teeth reopened the splits, their arms tangled together in their hair and pulling out blond and brown hairstreaks.   
  
“We are living it,” Louis said as she pulled away.   
  
“Not that I am against kissing you, may I ask why?” Niall laughed.    
  
“It seemed like the right moment to kiss, didn’t it?”   
  
“While we are living the life of drugs and alcohol, we aren’t living the whole socialize and popularity shit.” Niall said back to her.   
  
“We are still living it, thought. It’s just acceptable when you’re rich to get drunk at noon and it’s horrible. When I do it, I’m alcoholic, but if a rich cunt does it they’re just fun and all that shit.” Louis continued and picked up the bottle, shaking it around to see if it was any left.    
  
“Ahh, this life is just so boring. Being poor is boring. Fucking hell, all my money goes to alcohol and cigarettes, I don’t even know when I last bought a new set of clothes,” Niall groaned as he fell down into their pillow fort.   
  
“Well, atleast you have all the latest tech gadgets, babe.” Louis smirked as she cuddled down with him.   
  
Niall threw an arm around her and kissed her forehead, “Well, all because of you darling.”   
  
She kissed his collarbone, tracing old scars with her perfectly manicured finger. “I know. Everything is boring.”   
  
“Let’s just die already.” Niall said back and opened up a new bottle of wine as they continued to talk the whole night about imaginary lives they have lived.   
  
  
  
Her high waisted short pushed into her stomach. The bottle of wine didn't help, and she slowly waddled out of them.   
  
Her stomach screamed at her in its uselessness; the only thing she needed was a new liver and lungs. Maybe a womb too while she’s at it, the only thing she’s actually using.    
  
What was it that it wanted, she wondered. She had tried once upon a time to feed it; she have puked, but mostly she drank and smoked the feeling away.   
  
This whole school was just to pass time. To have something to do under the day time.   
  
She’s bored.   
  
  
  
“Oi, Louis!” Liam calls out for her as she enters the homeroom.   
  
“Haven’t seen you in this class or literally ages!” The footie captain says, and god bless his stupid ass.   
  
“Been busy, how are you love?” She ask and kisses his cheek.   
  
The lesson have yet to start, and all eyes are on them; the captain and the queen who ignored her crown.   
  
Louis smiled dryly -- her crown. The ‘popular’ girl all knew that Louis was the head B, just as much as the rest of the school. She was the hot gossip, and she was also probably the poorest student with Niall in the school.   
  
“Life’s been good for me, and you darling?” Liam asked back.   
  
She’s never really in school, it’s just a way to pass time between drugs, alcohol and sex.   
  
“It’s as usual,” She shrugs. Her life is boring and just a pattern of repeating motions.   
  
“Come to the game on friday! We’ll crush those wankers,” Liam smiled brightly.   
  
“Maybe,” maybe a scenery change would be a good idea, “I’ll think about it.”    
  
  
  
The feeling of how to have forgotten to live hits Louis some time over midnight. It's cliche, it's boring to have some external crisis at night nursing her ever lasting hungover with bottles of wine.   
  
Louis have those normal suicidal night where she listen to the funeral and all that but -- but this night was different. She went out on a smoke per usual but she couldn't think. She've already thought all thoughts, over played memorise, fantasies about everything.   
  
As she lighted up a fag and drank her wine it hit her. Not the usual feeling of smallness and patheticness in the universe; it hit her how over used and alone she is.   
  
The dark night showed no stars, only streetlights. She smiled, hoping to see at least one star to wish upon in this over light uppertown.   
  
Niall joins her, "saw you." He said. His balcony on the second floor which was a curse and a blessing.   
  
"Yeah." She says as Niall rolls the mary.   
  
"Do you still think of dying?" He asks as he passes her a joint.   
  
"Yeah, don't you? Everyones does."   
  
"Let's die together then." He says.   
  
They are both to lazy to move to some bridge or high house.   
  
So they smoke and drink.   
  
  
  
She’s disposable, she knows.    
  
It’s fucking weird how Harry had left an imprint on her. How she had made her felt like she was on a date, like she didn’t have to pretend; then she threw her away like everyone else.    
  
She’s used to it. Then, why did it hurt.   
  
“H-harder,” She moaned as Zayn fucks her roughly. She could understand his wive, really, Zayn was blessed with this big cock yet didn’t have any idea how to use it.   
  
“Ah, ah!” She faked her moans as he thrusted into her in an uneven pace, he wasn’t even close to her prostate.   
  
And, fuck, if he was bad at foreplay. “Ba-babe,” She moaned, it sounded fake to her own ears, but how Zayn was going, he was close. Fucker completely ignored her soft nipples.   
  
“I’m close!” She said as he groaned, squeezing around him to finish it quicker.   
  
Zayn came into the condom quickly, and he still haven’t decently to take of his wedding ring. Louis pretended it wasn’t there.   
  
“You’re so much better than my wife.” Zayn murmured at her ear as he collapsed against her. No, she was better at pretending.   
  
Louis kissed his cheek bone and lips, “You are amazing.”   
  
She went to collect her clothes, as Zayn’s voice disturbed her, “Stay.”   
  
“But your wife?” She asked.   
  
“Fuck her.” He grunted, “Stay one night.”   
  
She sat down on the edge of the bed in her skirt and unclothed breast, tracing the veins on his right hand, “Why?”    
  
Zayn gripped her hand, pulling her close, “You’ve changed, are the Louis Vuitton not to your taste?” He had always loved to spoil her with Vuitton, loved the irony.   
  
She shrugged. She don’t know what she want anymore.   
  
“You don’t want anything, never ask for anything, yet still come to me and let me do anything to you. Fuck you raw, call you names.” Zayn kissed her shoulder blades, “You’re slipping aren’t you?”   
  
She didn’t know when he started to care for her, how he even noticed her.   
  
“Don’t go where I can’t follow.”    
  
She touched the diamond necklace he had gifted her some months ago, and she knew it’s value was far greater than his wife’s ring. “You love me, don’t you?”    
  
Zayn tightened his grip on her, “Do you remember the first time we met? You were flirting like crazy with me, and your eyes was colder than the icy frost in january mornings.”   
  
He traced her face as he looked above her, a longing in his gaze, “You were so beautiful, completely broken and in so many pieces. I don’t know, don’t remember, if I wanted to fix you or break you even more. I took you in under my wings, gave you everything you pointed at.”    
  
Louis nodded, “My perfect little sugerdaddy.”    
  
“You were always laughing and smiling, that defense mechanism you’ve always have. Never cry nor get angry, just shut down.” Zayn traced her lips, wondering how many have touched her, kissed her against her will. He traced her hips, caressing the soft lighting stretch marks.   
  
“I haven’t seen you smile in a while. You’re always tired, your apathy and indifference is completed.” She kissed the corner of his mouth in a silent plea for him to shut up.   
  
“Are you happy with all your perfect unbreakable wall you’ve built up? Or have you completely let it go, let go of everything?”   
  
It wasn’t fair of him, it wasn’t fair of Zayn to suddenly be all lovey dovey when she was used to rough and hard fucks.   
  
“You don't love me, you don’t know me.” She whispered out in the warm air reeking of sex   
  
Zayn entwined their hands, “I do know you.”   
  
“I’m just a used whore.”   
  
“You’re mine.” Zayn gripped her hips harshly, “Mine to love, mine to spoil.”   
_   
Mine to heal or break. _   
  
Louis caressed his cheek, “For as long as you have money.”   
  
“I have all the money in the world, oil will forever be in demand. I’m the only one you have, you left all your sugerdaddys when you realised you only needed to fuck me for everything you needed.”   
  
“And when money isn’t what I’m out for? What if I wanted more. Would you leave your wife for me?” She asked.   
  
“I would.”   
  
“You don’t know me,” Louis repeated.   
  
“I do know you. How many outings haven't I taken you on, how many dates? I know you inside from out.”   
  
She didn’t answer just laid down and let Zayn hold her tight, fuck Harry who never answered and brought her on cute dates.   
  
“Don’t slip away now when I finally have you.”   
  
  
  
“Freedom, la la la la, freedom, follow me! Freedom,” Louis sings, repeating the phrase over and over. She heard it on the radio some day ago, and she can’t remember anything but that part.   
  
Slightly annoying, actually.   
  
“Ugh, can you give me another song?” Louis asks Niall, both laying down in the balcony and smoking.   
  
She can’t feel her hand from the cold harsh winter wind, but it was the urge for nicotine and the determination that kept them bout outside.   
  
“Fuck can’t feel my face, I can’t feel my hands or nose,” Niall muttered as brought the fag up to his lips.   
  
Louis nodded against his chest, “Cold as balls.”   
  
“That’s such a weird saying, why are the balls cold?” He cupped his dick with one in extra gesturing.   
  
Louis giggled, “Blue balls?” She guessed.   
  
“Maybe. Still weird.”    
  
“What's weird is Zayn proclaiming his love for me,” Louis states as she open up the balcony and heads inside, Niall hot on her tail.   
  
He ask her about yesterday, and she retells the whole story.    
  
“He’d leave his perfect political marriage for you, he’d make social suicide for you,” Niall laughs, “He doesn’t even know you.”   
  
Louis smiles, “That’s what I told him.”   
  
“If he knew you, he’d know you’re incapable of love,” He said the harsh truth with the same tone as someone confirming that the sky is blue, “He’d known you aren’t even alive.”   
  
She kisses him softly on the cheek.   
  
  
  
  
  
She did her usual routine, applying face cream, hand cream and body butter all over her body as she had dryed herself from the shower and plucked her eyebrows. Natural. She remember Harry telling her on one of their dates how she prefered natural and simple girls.   
  
So really, she did her usual makeup routine, just skipping lipstick, eyeliner and eyeshadows. She looked cute, innocent with her hair in a long fishbone tail, and the simple tight white jeans and black t-shirt.   
  
She have no idea where she is -- the alcohol is fucking with her, the coke heightening her senses and the mdna making everything mellow. She knows her routine, she know’s she’s supposed to be done a specific time; but she can’t remember _why._   
  
It hits her from nowhere as she’s watching herself in the mirror. _Who is that._   
  
She presses the + on her iphone, watching it turn to tree red dots but she can’t _hear_ it. She can’t remember what song is playing. She’s out of this world.   
  
And from fucking nowhere, she realise she’s going on a date. That’s why she’s pimped up, why she’s pretty.   
  
She isn’t herself -- but what is herself. She doesn’t have a personality, she’s drugs and intoxication with too high percent.   
  
She’s nothing. And like that, she’s taking in her surrounding again. The loud music in her ears, the sharp pain of her nails tearing her skin, his red bitten lips.   
  
Louis smiled as the cocaine takes over her system, she’s herself. She’s Louis fucking Tomlinson.   
  
(Who?)   
  
Friday 12, 8 o’clock, and Harry was outside waiting for her in her range rover as per usual.   
  
“You are one of the most successful woman of England, yet you always ride this white car. Why’s that?” Loui ask with a crooked smile as she enters.   
  
Harry chuckles, “Well, it’s because I love it. It’s not extravagant but it’s not simple either. It’s perfect, just like you.”   
  
“That’s some backway compliment,” Louis laughs.   
  
“So what have you been up too, haven’t heard from you in a while.” Harry says as she continues to drive.   
  
“Really, love? I’ve been snapping you constantly!” Louis says back with a fake smile.   
  
Harry puts her hand on top of Louis tight, “I’m sorry I haven’t answered babe.”   
  
_I’ve been busy_ , the usual replies from all her clients. She’s back at square one again, she have Zayn she can leave Harry. But it’s something stopping her, something about Harry that makes her so irresistible, so hard to leave.   
  
They pull up to a pizzeria some minutes later, “Glad you went casual,” Harry winks, as if she hadn’t ignore her for a month straight then left a message to be done at 8.   
  
“Indeed,” Louis giggles instead, placing her hand in Harry’s larger one. It have always been one of her fascination with Harry -- how big she was, yet thin. She was tall, taller enough to be a model, long fingers, never ending legs; muscular body and fully hips. She was big, gorgeous, yet thin and timid.    
  
Seated at one of the few tables left in the back, Harry begins the smalltalk. Louis never lets it die, always filling the small silence with even more talk.    
  
They goes through lots of different subject as they wait and eat their pizza; all from nature and science to art and politics. It’s entertaining, it’s a lovely night.   
  
“But, I don’t think you ever told me about what you do?” Louis giggles as she sips her rosé, “You were at this super big conference, yet you own a restaurant?” She asked.   
  
Harry hesitated before laying her hand on top of hers again, “Well, I’m a CEO, I guess. It’s nothing big, really, just a simple company whos the middle ground between asian and europe.”   
  
“I feel like you’re just toning it down in simple terms so I can understand,” Louis pouts.   
  
“Well, in the end, that’s it,” Harry says with a laugh.   
  
“Still don’t understand why you own restaurants!” Louis tilts her head sideway, looking down as if a clueless minder.   
  
Harry's rings makes a cling as she takes the glass up to her lips, sipping on it slowly and let her mind wander.   
  
It’s a lovely night.    
  
  
  
“I don’t fucking understand you Louis!” Harry breaks down, shouting at her. “One moment you’re this person I fell in love with, this political interest person with opinions and smart remarks -- then, you’re a clueless fucking bimbo with perfect smile!”   
  
And Louis wants to laugh, “I don’t know you, neither do you know me.” There was chemistry between them, maybe, but Louis didn’t know how love feels.   
  
They’ve been seeing each other weekly for three weeks. It’s going to hell.   
  
It’s going to fucking hell.   
  
Harry’s apartment is pristine, perfect, one moment, the next a vase is broken on the wall behind Louis. “I thought we was something,” Harry shouted. Louis had come home with Zayn’s cologne smelling of her.   
  
“It’s fucking over, you can’t even be truthful with me,” She whispered defeated.   
  
How could she ever have thought Louis would be the one, Louis is a whore.   
  
A pretty girl, a beautiful wreck she thought was hers. Was her baby, her girl, her love.   
  
“Get out.” Harry whispered, “get out!” She shouted when Louis didn’t move.   
  
Louis nodded numbly. It was fun while it lasted.   
  
  
  
She’s so fucking classy with her rules, she laughs silently to herself.   
  
She have two rules, not smoking before ten, and not taking any alcohol before twelve -- she tries to follow them, really, but they are so fucking hard to follow.   
  
15:06, and she goes out for a smoke. She never really realise how drunk she was when she was sitting down writing and drinking, but now when she stands up -- fuck, she needs water and maybe something to eat.    
  
A good time to eat breakfast.   
  
Louis smokes two cigs, one menthol and a regular red 1.0, god how she hates those 90’ fags, 100 fulls are so much better.   
  
She sighs as her stomach rumbles. Sure she can make some toast or cereal but that takes time, and well. Fuck if she’s waiting. The vodka smoothie, vanilla vodka, ice cream, banana and kiwi, is so simple to make; just pour it up in a glass.   
  
It’s not even a decision, honestly.   
  
Louis pours herself a extra large glass of the smoothie before sitting down at her computer.    
Her new iphone rose gold, a gift from Harry the day after their third date, vibrates.   
  
**(6) message Niall  
  
(1) call Niall  
  
(1) call Zayn  
  
(2) message Harry  
  
(12) Facebook  
  
(9) Snapchat  
  
(173) Instagram**   
  
Huh, she’s been gone from her phone for quite the while. She ignores all the notifications and calls Niall.   
  
“Yes?” Niall answered with.   
  
“Did I call a hooker? Give me a fucking hello you wanker,” Louis says back.   
  
She can hear him laughing on the other end, “So do you still want to die babydoll?”    
  
“Right to the point, eh? That’s why I like you.” Louis smiles at her best friend.   
  
“I’ll take that as a yes. Let’s go out with a bang.” Niall said.   
  
“Ah, shit at home has been getting worse? Sleep at mine tonight, darling.” Louis knew of his abusive and drunk parents, how his brother had left him alone through it all. Niall had a fucking horrible life, yet her she was complaining about hers.   
  
“Yes and yes. But seriously, let us go out with a big bang. I have, through connections, gotten my hands on a gun. What do you say, babydoll?” Niall’s voice was laughing with mirth.   
  
Louis was smiling so big, her cheeks was hurting, “Darling get your ass to Park Lane, tonight we’re celebrating.”   
  
“Fuck yeah we are, what time?” Niall ask.   
  
“Midnight or one, look pretty baby!” She ends the calls and goes to the bathroom to fix herself for a night out.   
  
(She looks in the mirror, who is the one staring back?)   
  
  
  
  



	3. And if you want an ending to your screenplay life

Daily white wines, red, rosè, whisky to mix it all up. Functional alcoholic, the papers say of her. Harry looks at them and huffs out a broken laugh, she’ll fucking show them a functional alcoholic.  
  
She throws herself into her work, her chain. She won’t stop until she’s at the top. She’ve handle  sexistic men, she’s been in contact with middlemen wishing to talk with the CEO. Harry Style is the one, the one ruling.   
  
And she feels like a failure as she comes home to no one.   
_  
_ _One of The Great Britain’s most successful women's._   
  
  
“Harry Styles?” A socialite laughed, a hand covering her mouth as she gossiped to the girl close to her, “You mean the pathetic sad cunt,” and giggled.   
  
“A disgrace,” another contributed to the conversation over her wine glass.   
  
Christina, an old friend of said woman, could only laughs coldly, “Harry Styles! Such a pathetic girl, never one to love.”   
  
“An amazing business woman in all right, but oh the shame!” Sarah whispered loudly to Joan, “A drunken masterpiece is what that lady is!”   
  


* * *

_Well, here’s the consolation that will change your heart and mind_

* * *

  
  
Harry Styles looks up in her empty, bare, living room. There used to be so much light and joy in it. She’d thrown party in magnitude, where guest are forced to mingle in the her corridor for hours before even getting in.   
  
It was neon lights and smoke, alcohol and drugs; but as the night passes her apartment become dull once again. Every room filled to the brink, half dancing, half mingling, the rest out on any of her balconies.   
  
It’s boring and overplayed, she thought as she sipped her red, _boring_ , as she saw another couple grind to the DJ’s hired, _boring,_ she thought as she saw a couple or three taking shots from the navel.   
  
Harry looked around in her large estate, in her kitchen where Louis would tease her.   
  
_“Why, good morning miss Styles,” Louis said slyly, dressed only in her white strings and an apron as she cooked eggs, “I thought you’d sleep twenty minutes til, at least. Can’t say I’m the best chief, but these eggs are yet to be burned!”  
  
She tried to flip them, one stuck in the pan, the other still white juicy like water doing nothing.   
  
“Ahh!” She had shouted as she desperately tries to make them look like regular eggs.   
  
Harry stiffed a laugh, poppin in two toast in the roaster, “Egg taste like egg, no matter how poorly done.” She said, coming up behind Louis.   
_   
The balcony, which Louis spend all her time.   
  
_“Hey, hey! Stranger danger,” she laughed as she kissed her with her mouth filled with smoke, hand holding an ale. Bare with only her lingerie she fucked her earlier, “Hey, alcohol makes you warmth, say where’s your next bottle?” She asked, and oh god, she was still underage and small, she should not be this sober two bottles in.  
  
She should have seen the signs. _   
  
The window with the cactuses.   
  
_“Cactus? Really, darling, I should have picked you for a classic rose type,” Louis said, lighting up a fag by the window.  
  
“You don’t mind?” She’d ask after she’d already done the deed, “‘Cause that’s a breaker, I need my cancer, love.”   
  
_ _And Harry could only smile in fondness, saying, “Sure, go ahead babe, give me secondhand cancer.”_   
  
Her bathtub.   
  
Her sofa with lazy days and movie marathons.   
  
Her bar, where Louis would try to take ‘em all, as she sang in tune with pokemon.   
  
Her second lounge,   
  
Her office,   
  
And, and, oh god why did she ever kick Louis out. She never even gave her time to explain, she realise. That perfume could have just been a tryout from some store. Louis had a reason for smelling of men cologne. She must have had.   
  
She must have had.   
  
Harry sets down her scotch as she went around the house, _“I miss you,_ ” She said to the darkness, to the nothingness.   
  
The party continues on. 

 

* * *

 _This will make you love again_  
 _And now you save love again_  
 _To feel the rays, love again_

* * *

  
  
Harry Styles, one of the most influential woman of the year according to diverse magazine, sips her red fastly, draining a glass in twenty. Nowhere near a peaceful pace as she reads through all bullshit interviews she have given.   
  
Nothing about her past. Nothing about her parent small spaghetti stall that escalated. Nothing about their tragic death. Nothing, she supposed, is better than if they knew.   
  
She’s a child of the old internett and cartoons. She’s a child of marvel and _superheroes will always prevail!!_ As her once young mind read in glee.   
  
She’s a child where playboy magazine were neatly stacked where her cartoons were.   
  
“Oi oi,” Nick whistled as he threw an arm around her, “Looking at all these hot super boys? With their inhumane muscles and body properties, doesn’t that just make you so hot?” He teases.   
  
He picks up some motor magazine filled with bikini clad girls, “Say, this, this is what make me hot if you know what I mean.”   
  


* * *

_The sweet delays love again_  
 _To shoot the breeze, love again._

* * *

  
“Hey,” Niall says in a greeting as he joins her on the balcony, “Should learn to lock your door.” He provides as he lights up a cheap chesterfield red.   
  
It’s a Wednesday, around ten. Can't be home after six, is somethings Niall have learned the hard way. Roaming the street is fun, bar jumping is fun, but he misses the security of a home. The closest he haves to one, is his so lovely childhood friend.   
  
Which, said friend, is an absolute wreck where's she’s holding her white bottle and dead cig, staring out towards nothing.   
  
  
  
  
It comes a time when one have to realise it’s time to move on, to let go.   
  
“Niall I can’t fucking breath, everything is eating me up.”   
  
“It’s alright, you never had anything, and no one here is worth it.” Niall murmurs, and Louis silently wonders if he is her personal reaper who lures her to her death. To their death.   
  
“How are you even alive?” She ask, breathing in his vanilla shampoo, from where he’s draped across her back, his cold scarred arms holding her close to him.   
  
He shrugs, “I’m waiting for you. Remember our blood oath when we were 13? I’m waiting.”   
  
Through their short lives they have made two blood oaths, to die together, and to kill Niall’s father.   
  
_“I’m waiting”_ , She repeats the apathetic words out loud, “You’re cruel, so cruel.” She whispers out in the cold air, his hairy arms makes her feel safe.   
  
His arm isn't holding hard nor loose, he kisses her neck in a sick nostalgic feeling, where too many mouths have touched, have held. He’s nothing like the ones she spends the night with.   
  
Harry, her beautiful smile, her everlasting money, held her close, like a property.   
  
Like Zayn held her.   
  
They both loved her, they both loved her used cunt paying it with latest fashion and gold.   
  
But, but Niall held her so, so close. Shared perverse kisses and drinks, shared everythings from scars to hatred. Niall is her everything.   
  
And Louis laughs, twisting his mouth towards her, “Hey, hey,” she chimes, her tongue tracing his, “Which oath first?”   


* * *

_All the glitz messiahs just pass the time,_  
 _A cure for no real sickness, cross your hopes and die_

* * *

  
  
For the first time, they’ve planted seeds for potatoes. “It’s not the right time for potatoes,” Louis murmurs, staring at their newly made garden.   
  
“Nothing is right, neither time nor family.” Niall says, kicking the dirt.   
  
Louis closes in to him, throwing an arm around him as he continues to kick the dirt with vigorou.   
  
“Are you crying? You taste like salt.” She says, kissing Niall's cheek.   
  
“Close your eyes,” He says back, “We’ve done good.” Louis can still smell the corpse, the putrefaction. She prays for no potatoes, as she leaves silent kisses on Niall's salt tasting cheeks.   
  
“One down, one to go.” She says, eyes closed and face frozen in apathy, she ignores her friends silent sobs.   


* * *

_Your supermarket Jesus comes with smiles and lies_  
 _Where justice he delays is always justice he denies_

* * *

  
  
Her mouth’s dry from all wine but the cigarette is just too lovely in her intoxicated state. Just one more, her dry voice rasped out, just one more, she lights up another.   
  
Staring at her half drunk cocktail, staring at her unread messages. Staring into the nothingness.   
  
And after a while, it stares back.   
  
And in the nothingness, it speaks, tells her of tales _never ever living, the beauty of death_   
  
And it taunts her, _hey hey, Lou, Lou, didn't you just kill a man! Disgusting! You're simply disgusting_!   
  
The nothingness, darkness speaks to her. Or maybe it’s her own sick mind.   


 

* * *

 _Early Thursday mornings, wipe away the flies_  
 _The crossfire fight for action in between your thighs_

* * *

  
  
She’s back at the start. She’s numb and oh so pretty, pretty, as she spread her legs. _It runs in the family_ , she sings softly.   
  
She kisses his filthy mouth, his ill shaved beards leaving traces in between her thighs.   
  
“Zayn?” The man raises his head, “who the fuck is Zayn?”   
  
Louis looks up at him and smile so angelic, “Who?” Followed up by a “ah!” As she tickles her clit, her _so pretty doll like_ pink lips opening open in a silent moan, her eyes closed and eyebrows scrunched.   
  
“I’m c-close!” She continue on with her fake charade, the man’s fucking getting irregular.   


* * *

_Every touched is sacred when they leave the room_

* * *

  
  
(“Hey, i miss you” harry sent a week ago. She still regularly goes in to her messages, to see the read, instead of delivered   
  
Ah, Harry though, she’ve found another one.)   
  
Sometimes the stars will be seen in their rundown city, in coldness with no clouds.   
  
Louis smokes to the in tribute, remembering all of her childish story of why they had become.   
  
She wondered if Harry was her first love. Or Zayn. Or maybe Niall. She don’t know how love feels. She looks at Niall’s scars as he hold her hand, “hey, you want?” He gives the hookah to her mouth.   
  
Louis is as far away. She’s 7 pm, what a perfect time to be drunk and not feel hunger, she thinks. She pours some vodka and coke, the most simple drink everyone one drank when they were small. It’s nostalgic.   
  
“Hey,” Louis says, “Time to fulfill our last oath.”   
  
Niall places his beer to hers, “Cheers,” with a too long lasting smile.   


* * *

_If I have to switch the lights off, I wanna switch them off with you._

* * *

  
  
She’s almost eighteen, and oh god, _she’s fucking dying._   
  
There’s no cum dripping down her thighs.   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole fic comes from one line of the song, guess away which one. 
> 
> On another note, I have around 7k backstory for Harry, Niall and Zayn; but I thought it didn't fit in, as Louis is her own main character and no time for others. Might add in some extra chapter, aka their backstory, if anyone want it.


End file.
